


It helpeth not defence to yearn/Of innocency to plead or prate’ Sirius: 3rd November 1982

by MatureMead



Series: ‘Cicumdederunt me inimici mei’ (My enemies, they surround me): After the First War [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Canon Compliant, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Gen, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Multi, One Shot Collection, POV Sirius Black, Post-First War with Voldemort, Second War with Voldemort, Sirius Black Needs a Hug, Sirius Black in Azkaban
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29063829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatureMead/pseuds/MatureMead
Summary: Sirius never had a chance to defend himself or plead his innocence. Left alone, he holds on to his innocence and desire for revenge as he remembers the worst day of his life. Set on his 23rd birthday, one year after his imprisonment in Azkaban
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter
Series: ‘Cicumdederunt me inimici mei’ (My enemies, they surround me): After the First War [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2132904
Kudos: 3





	It helpeth not defence to yearn/Of innocency to plead or prate’ Sirius: 3rd November 1982

Sirius groaned. A faint ray of pale morning light had intruded through the high narrow window of his cell, piercing the gloom and waking him from troubled sleep. He rolled over on the hard, narrow bed, and pulled the blanket over his head. He felt the familiar fog pressing in on him, tethering him to the darkness. Outside, rain lashed at the rough stone walls, a dismal drumbeat of misery. He groaned again.

Sirius was a handsome young man; everyone had said so. He had loped through the corridors of Hogwarts with an easy grace, his high cheekbones and dark eyes framed with long, black, shining hair. He had worn his good looks lightly, with the confidence of a boy who cared little for such trivial things, who took such beauty for granted. That shining hair was now unkempt and matted. Those high cheekbones hollow and gaunt, his dark eyes haunted and blank. If Sirius had been able to look in a mirror, he would not have recognised himself.

Gradually, he became aware that the chill of the cell was deepening, icy tendrils stealing over the bed and into his chest. _They’re here._ Something was drawing long, rattling breathes as it glided past his door. The darkness was closing in, the sound of the rain fading away…

‘No! James! JAMES! Lily!’

His own voice was loud in his head, screaming out the names of his best friends as he stood in front of the ruined house. The garden gate was swinging open, the front door stood ajar and the lights were still on in the front room. Upstairs, the side of the cottage had been blown apart. The Fidelius charm had broken, and Sirius stared wildly at the house he should not have been able to see. And then he was running, running faster than he had ever run in his life, up the garden path, over the threshold and into the hallway. He stopped. Lying across his path was James. His best friend was spreadeagled on the floor, his glasses smashed, his messy black hair framing his wide, staring eyes.

Sirius could not take it in, could not make sense of what he was seeing. _Lily and Harry. Where are Lily and Harry?_ Pausing only to vomit onto the carpet, he ran up the stairs, shouting Lily’s name over and over again. Forcing his way into the little bedroom, he stopped again. Lily was lying in front of the cot, her last screams etched onto her face, her green eyes frozen with fire and fear. Behind her, baby Harry was crying as if he would never stop. His cries filled Sirius’s head, growing louder and louder. Eventually, he realised the cries were issuing from his own mouth. He was not in Godric’s Hollow, he was in Azkaban and his friends were dead because of him. _Because of Wormtail._

Sirius’s eyes snapped open. _Wormtail._ The screaming had stopped, the white fog had cleared. The cold had been replaced by a boiling sensation that burned feeling back into his veins. _Wormtail betrayed them._ He remembered the last time he had laid eyes on him, that murderous piece of filth. They had stood opposite each other on a crowded street. Sirius had not stopped to think, to plan. Remus was on a secret Order mission, he was of no help now, he did not even know that the world had ended on Halloween and by the time he returned it would be too late. All that mattered was finding Wormtail, and making him pay for what he had done. For taking them away from Sirius. For the visions that swam before him when he closed his eyes. _For Harry._ But Wormtail had been ready for him. He had accused Sirius of his own crimes, and then blasted the street apart. Sirius remembered the screams, the blood, the tangle of bodies as he was blown off his feet. When he scrambled up, frantically searching for his wand, Wormtail had vanished. Sirius had laughed. A terrible, maniacal laugh of despair.

Waves of fury washed over Sirius as he lay in his cell, snuffing out the terrible numbness that had threatened to paralyse him. They had not even given him a trial. He had pleaded his innocence, begged to see Dumbledore, begged to see Remus, but to no avail. Wormtail had taken everything. Sirius sat up, ran a hand through his matted hair and clenched his other fist on the blanket. He was innocent. He knew he was innocent. And he was going to find a way to prove it. A way to make Wormtail pay at last. Somewhere, out there, Harry was still alive, proof that James and Lily had lived and breathed and loved. He was not going to die without seeing him, without knowing him. Remus was still alive, believing Sirius to be a murderer. He was not going to die without Remus knowing the truth and forgiving him for his failures. He would not die in disgrace.

The rattling sounds had faded, leaving behind a bone-deep chill. Somewhere, a prisoner was screaming. Sirius shivered and transformed into Padfoot. The shaggy black dog curled up on the bed and rested its enormous head on its paws. His last thought before drifting back to sleep was clear and determined. He was going to find Wormtail one day, and he was going to kill him. 

It was his 23rd birthday.

**Author's Note:**

> Some pretty heavy themes of depression, misery and despair, so proceed with caution! A little shorter than I intended but turns out writing about Sirius in prison is extremely painful so I think less is more…My first ever series so all feedback welcome!


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